Ok, you go on and on--- and get nightmares.... Really

I have some really disassociated hearing things. Especially if your neighbors play drums. My last neighbor played drums. The first time I heard him do it, I woke up at four in the morning wondering, 'Who the fuck is falling down the stairs repeatedly?' And I opened my double doors and it was drums. Well I didn't care, I had to go to work ANYWAY.

Jeffy moved out, and said I was gonna LOVE the new ones. Yup nice new family. A two year old daughter who looks like an angel. Nice Wife. And blonde Peter, who na ja, not so cool with him. Something is wrong. My radar is not good with him, and I don't mean gaydar. Slick.

So welcome to my new radar. Something must be bothering me subconciously about him.

Whatever he rang the bell a couple of days ago, and asked me about putting his music studio in the attic above my apt. I really don't mind. But then it was quiet for two weeks, ya know? I threw up today, and don't even know WHY.

It is SO bloody hot here, and I have to do so much tomorrow, I did my afternoon NAP. I hate afternoon naps. And whaddaya know, hey, I combined the noise upstairs with a nightmare. I was CONVINCED that someone was trying to break into my neighbors' apt and kill them with a sledge hammer. Shades of 'Daddy's HOME!!!' Eeeewwwww.

And then I made a fucking ASS out of myself. Rang the bell, and asked if everything was ok with them. It was so fucking embarrassing. And of course he said they are beginning to practice. And asked if it bothered me. And I said no, you just scared me out of my wits, hey.
I'd forgotten. He asked, 'should we stop?' And I said, 'oh, Geh, hör me auf' And fucking do what you do, as long as I know what it is...hey...

Gawd, am I lax. But I love young people, and what they do, and wouldn't want to get in their way. Never.

Especially if they are creative. The new drummer seems to be good. But am not about to impose on their perceptions, hey. That is their stuff....

But istn't that sort of paranoid stuff?? Really. You think you get the fuck RID of it and then you go all protective because the world you grew up in is so terribly violent.

And it is in your fucking subconcious.

So yeah, I got all protective. And it wasn't necessary.

And I feel like an idiot.

Ja, swell...

What a very strange Sunday, hey....

It is Peter's name day, so you do something like on a birthday. Make them something they like, in this case Wiener Schnitzeln, and potatoe salad, and have a glass of sparkling wine and drink their health. It is a tradition, you know?

Nothing spectacular, in other words, just the regular....

BUT.... Today is the finals of the European soccer championships. Germany vs. Spain. (Ja, the ASSHOLES beat the Turks and got into the finals.... Spew alert.) But there is hope, hey. The bloody 'calf of the nation' went and did it again, oh joy. The team captain, not an animal, even if I'm not so sure about that.... His leg, the calf. He got damaged two years ago and everyone in the media was talking about the calf of the nation. So now we get the re-run. And oh BOY, you wanna talk about a nation of whiney assed titty babies, as Atrios calls them, you have to see the German media in action, hey. Waschlappen, hey. (Wet dish towels.) We in Austria go off the charts for Schadenfreude when they go bonkers.

It sort of reinforces our fratricidal instincts, yup. Whine sob, it's gonna ruin their 'Sommermärchen' their fairy tale happy ending. Well hell's bells, that's the way the fucking cookie crumbles, and they should just get a grip. And no, I don't want them to win. It would make them even more insufferable than they already are.

The other thing was that we watched a live concert from Vienna that took place a couple of weeks ago. Right on that huge square in front of City Hall. The place was PACKED. It was a competition of young virtuoso musicians from all over Europe, between 15 and 19 years old. Accompanied by the Vienna Philharmonic orchestra. They freaked me out, really. Such talent, and such very difficult pieces. There was an eighteen year old young man from Corfu who did a clarinet piece for orchestra. I know a little about clarinet, because I got one as a kid. (I wanted to learn piano, but tja, that was all my 'rents could afford....) So I KNOW what a difficult instrument it can be.

And this KID comes out, and from the first phrases, my mouth dropped, and I didn't get it closed again. And by about the fourth phrase, I said to Peter, 'MY GAWWD! I had no IDEA it could sound like that! Every note so clear... knock me over with a feather, hey.!' It was just honest admiration. The piece was so difficult, and none of them had notes to look at, they fucking played. I was just spitless.

And I wish you could have seen the audience, they went nuts. The kid with the clarinet won, and he was so stunned, you could tell he was nearly crying for joy. And the others were hardly less good, but that was so stunning, he earned it.

While the jury was out deliberating, opera singer Angelika Kirchshläger did some numbers. Kurt Weill, for instance. She is the daughter of one of our former presidents, a good one. I last saw her in the Vienna opera about fifteen years ago. Like good wine, her voice has improved with age. And then they got the entire Vienna Boy's Choir out with her, and noooo.... nothing kitschy. They did this astounding thing with different languages, from Latin to god knows what, and it was about friendship, and the rhythms kept changing from Oriental to Latin to Austrian traditional, but it made up a whole somehow.... Blew the audience away.


Tja, I guess that sort of sums up the difference between Austrians and Germans. The lattter have the big lip. We seem to get off on good music.

Whatever....

Ok, my wonderful Dad... maintains that my life is a soap opera

He didn't even mean it to be mean, he sees it that way.

It cracked me up, hey. I can feature it, oh yes....

And after yesterday, oh Boy, I can feature it.

I got a call this evening. The tin soldier (moi) didn't go over to see his neighbor two days in a row. We spoke on the phone yesterday, and I was still off the charts for 'angry'. So this evening he comes at me, with 'hey, are you sour with me?' That is what you say if you are really angry with someone. You go sour, hey.

And no, I wasn't. I was confused.

And he put his finger right on the point where it hurts. We fucking think alike, hey. Rudi was off the charts for jealous because I saw my neighbor all week, just helping him with some stuff.

I had been assuming that today, but he really brought it to the boil.

Hey, how does this stuff HAPPEN, hey? I am nearing sixty, and two guys put me in a clinch? I don't NEED the ex pimp. And the fucker went all huggy on me, and I hate that. I don't need that, and would have liked to throw him out of winder as Dickens would say.

My neighbor is just a neighbor. He has lived a very rough life but is kind and nice, and ok. I am glad to help him. He is a very nice person. And if I were to come on to him, he would literally KILL me. Not that I would even want to. He is a friend. He doesn't even get into that hetero thing where you punch someone in the arm. Well, you know the drill....

He fucking HATES Americans, my neighbor. And he is cool. I seem to be an exception to the rule, hey. The guy is a contradiction in terms, hey. You have to go a very long way to find that in your life, believe me.

And this evening? HALLO? My neighbor on the line. He fucking GOT it. 'Where have you been, hey? Do you think Rudi is jealous because you visit me? Nothing you told me last night makes sense otherwise. ' Well Bingo!!! Right on the nose, hey.

He isn't the brightest lamp in the chandelier, but he GOT it.

And no. OH NO! NEVER. I like the guy as neighbor, but no fucking way, so back off. He's just an interesting friend, nothing else.

I am too bloody OLD to even think about it. NO.

Soap Opera, darlin's? Gawwd, I can so get OFF on 'The Young and the Restless' . Even if they aren't so young any more. But they are fun.

Tja, am fucked over in my mind tonight, so nite...

Just been ruminating.... tja

I let myself get so freaked out yesterday. It was hardly funny.

And I 'talked' to the most wonderful friend I have this morning per mail. And it hit me.

I'm bloody schizoid, hey. No, not a joke, I AM.

Ya know, you get two sets of genes from your 'rents, and you try to make the best of them. Seems to me that my fahter's genes are the good ones, the ones I set my daily compass by. And I have done very well by them, living up to them.

My Mom's genes, the biological one? Those fucking genes are lurkers. And you never know when they are gonna come to the forefront, and they include rage, much rage. Sometimes they have served me well. Sometimes they have damaged me irreparably. I inevitably get ill if they take over. So I normally do not let them out if I can help it.

My Achilles heel is being waken out of a deep sleep. I am the worst person you have ever wanted to meet then. You have to get OUT of my way, and just be silent for an hour, and all will be well. It's my Mom's genes. Once I collect myself, and get ready for the day, my Dad's genes take over, and am your veritable lamb.

Yesterday, I got woken out of a deep sleep. It has been so hot and so humid, that is what I DO I sleep. With the fricken fan on. And I got woken up with this breathless ASS giving me a 'story'. My L genes went way forward. And you know what? He was AFRAID of me. (I am going to have to mark this on a calendar, NO ONE has ever been afraid of me... ever.) And then he went so far as to excuse himself, and HUG me, the ass. That stupid ex-pimp.

I've always been afraid of HIM. Really.

Wow.

Sometimes the L genes are just what you need in life, but they are dangerous.

And what it was REALLY about? I don't visit him to watch him and his wife fight all the time, and get caught in the middle.

But I was over at another neighbor's every day for a week and helped him with his english. The French Foreign Legion guy. So Rudi is jealous because I visit Werner? Gimme a fucking BREAK, hey. Werner is so fucking hetero, they just don't make them like that any more, and I respect it. He doesn't even do that hetero punch in the arm stuff, and yell hey if you have the same idea. He is quiet, and a nice person. Has a quiet sense of humour. He is ok. He brings out my Dad's genes.

And before you get any odd ideas.... he would KILL any guy who would come on to him sexually.

He wasn't joking, and I didn't take it as such. The other day, it was hot as hell up in his attic. I was so uncomfortable, I said., 'Listen, I gotta get rid of this shirt, it's too hot.' Whereupon he put his tee-shirt ON. There wasn't an inkling of anything sexual there, it was just so hot outside.

So I guess I scared the little guy as well.

I HAVE to mark this on my calendar, oh yes...

Ren goes skeery just short of sixty years old and terra-rizes his environment. And grows a beard, because he has nothing ELSE to do. Wow...

Sorry, Dad, sometimes the genes just come to the fore, and sometimes it is good, sometimes not.

Did I tell you I love you today? Sometimes I even 'like' my L genes... Tja...

oh. oh.... JEEBUS H Christ and somena bitch hey...

As a colleague of mine used to say. Somena bitch. Yup. I loved him for that....

Whatever, it is at the point where I do not know where the hell I am. Supposedly, I am to receive a letter with a delodging notice that I am supposed to ignore.

Because the GAS man who read my meters supposedly found my apt. 'untidy'. HELLO, say fucking WHAT? Those of you who have visited me know very well... I'm not a paragon of having everything in order, but I am NOT some sort of slob. And I keep things tidy, just so I can find stuff. Good, I don't always dust, or wash dishes if I am in a hurry, sue me why dont'cha. As if I don't have ENOUGH on my plate right now, just bring on the rest, hey...

And the rest of my neighborhood have been watching me closely these last months. I was terribly ill, and didn't know WHY. And would go out unshaved, not well combed, and scared the fucking horses, the idiots. oooh... Ren is skeerry.... Yup. I'm a fucking terra. Yes Sir, yes Ma'am. I'm your worst fucking nightmare, oh yeah. Well FUCK THAT. (oooo... Lightning just highlighted that line. Nice. I guess we are in for a thunderstorm again. We have been having them for days, but I sleep through them. Peter maintains that I would sleep through the end of the world and wouldn't notice. He is probably right.)

Whatever, I mind my own business. This stuff makes me sicker than I already am.

So they should just go FUCK themselves. And they should leave me way the fuck alone. I get very upset when people charge into my personsal life and want to take over. I really do....

As to Peter.... I think he wants the new place without my having pushed him. If so, he moves in August.

As to me, am just dancing in the air... without a trapeze.

Christ, how much FUN can you have, hey?

Oh gawd, oh fuck, lightenting just outside my house, hey

I normally SLEEP through thunderstorms. Really. The world could end and I wouldn't know about it....

Am not your usual 'spanner' (watcher). Just had to close the kitchen winder a bit. It started hailing. Now THAT is something I just can NOT get used to....

Ahh, forget it, it will go by. (just thundered outside my house... GO Home, you sucker! NOT INTERESTED.)

Tja,

I ran into someone today. She was from my past, way past. A very lovely lady named Anica. The 'c' is a k when you pronounce it, and she was from Slovenia, when Yugoslavia was one country. She was this little stick in the wind when I met her thirty one years ago. And her guy treated her like a horrible person, and I KNOW that she had to sleep in the park a few times. But she bore him a son, and since then she is the queen of Slovnia, believe me. That is not a moral judgement, it is how it IS.

It did my heart so good to see her so happy today, and to realise that she actually likes me.
So it looks like there is life after retirement. She is beautiful.

We are the same age.

Later I got a call from my former boss. It wasn't what I would call a happy call. Nope.

Tja. that is life, up and down....

Oh dear.....

Last nite was the first half of the semi-finals in soccer. Germany vs. Turkey. Germany won, 3 to 2. What a tragedy. The Turks played brilliantly, the Germans not so much. But got lucky at the last minute.

That is the game, hey.....

But what was 'dangerous'.... There are over 2 million Turks who live in Germany. Really. And you would 'expect' that you would have riots in the streets if they lost. Not so. They just think they 'half-won' because Germany is their home too.

They can be the most generous, wonderful people you could ever run into.

And fair losers? There were never any better, and all I can say is 'respect'. and Bravo.

And sorry they lost.

Did I mention our local media sucks?

Well, it really does.

Last nite I was over at my neighbors, googling for missing and displaced persons, because his English is nearly nil. And around 11 pm there was such a cheering and hollering out on the square. The last game of the quarter finals in the soccer championships had ended. Whoever won has to go into the semi finals against the big-mouthed Germans, and it was Turkey vs. Croatia. So I asked Werner for a break so I could check the local paper on-line and see who won. (He detests soccer.) Opened a new tab, and there it was, zero-zero, they went over-time, 11 meter goal kicks. Knock out round. And the paper said Croatia won, 1:0.

I was sort of disappointed. And I said, 'Man, the Croats make the Turks sound like Orfins in comparison.' What a bunch of noise. And little car corsos with honking concerts and people ruining their vocal cords.

Whatever. This morning, got up to do my weekend chores, was concentrated for a change, didn't lose my keys, and all. Turned on the tee-vee, and whaddaya know. They got it wrong. TURKEY won. I was delighted. (Ever notice how I somehow always support the underdogs? Hmmm.....)

That semi-final game is gonna be very very tense. Germany has millions of Turks in the country. The team isn't as skilled, maybe, but always find their heart and win at the last possible minute. They have the pluck to do it. And I hope they do. The Germans won't recover for another 36 years. They are already shitting their collective pantses, yes, Preciousses....

Today I got a Befund, a diagnosis from a doctor I saw in March. Herrgottnochmal, fix! I'm supposed to present this to the pension people. If you were to see it you would be afraid of me, very afraid. Extremely depressive was just the beginning. Gawww, what did they DO to me, hey? This is all so perverse, I am absolutely SPEECHLESS.

Need to digest it.

Sabotage.... plain and simple. Just when you think

you can trust people, and fucking doctors, you get blind-sided. In February, I was told I have to take a medication, for six months. I was trusting and so miserable, I took it.

It has been the worst five months of my life health-wise. Good, I had a sort of nervous breakdown, but I think the med made it worse. And it got even worse. The last month or so am like a bloody zombie, forget everything, and so on. I should have KNOWN those first two and a half months that hardly keeping anything down wasn't exactly ok. Chalked it up to nerves. But did ask if the med was responsible, and was told, oh, no, that wouldn't do that..... right.

And the past two weeks, oh wow. You NEVER want to see someone with a constantly running nose and from one moment to the next, you can't get any air, and then wretch and wretch, and nothing comes out, because there is nothing in your stomach.

And it sounds to others as if you are trying to just get rid of your inner organs.

And then you have to sit still for a good half hour because you are one tremblor of an earthquake, and can't even write your name if your life depended on it.

And then it goes away, for a while....

And you never know when it is going to hit you, that is the bad thing. Which is why I hardly leave the house.

Well, two days ago, I forgot to take that pill, and it was barf-free. Yesterday I took one, and got three attacks, mostly in private. Today, I didn't, and feel good for a change. Not super, but better than in weeks. My chest isn't constricted-feeling, my stomach stopped feeling horrible, and I can breathe freely for a change.

So was that the plan? Medicate me into some sort of incompetent fool so I get a pension?

Words fucking fail, hey. And I am an idiot. Will see in a few days, but if things improve without my taking that shit, someone is going to be very sorry.... because what I went through these pase five months is indescribable.

And I only found out last week that that medication is only supposed to be prescribed by one of the chief doctors of the health insurance company. It wasn't.

Yesterday there was something on the tv that woke me up to what is wrong.

But as I said, we shall see. Too early to tell. But think I am on track.

Perfidious.

Someone stole five months of my life.

OOO ooo... Snoopy dance, Snoppy dance, joy...

Just when you think that mankind has become a base bunch of idjits, you learn you were wrong.

I lost my keys on Saturday. Long story. It was one big bunch of keys, Preciousses, nine in all. I asked everywhere while shopping. It was traumatic, because the keys are for two houses. And it cost a pretty penny just to get back into my own apartment.

But the worst thing was I had lost the 'Anhänger', you know, the thing that you have to hold them all together. With the key ring. That had immense sentimental value to me, was unique, and was irreplaceable. From someone who loved me very much. I was very upset.

I asked EVERYWHERE, I had been. But forgot I had been to two tobacconists that morning. So my neighbour lent me his for the door to the square yesterday, and I ordered a duplicate. I couldnt get it without presenting a passport, and a registration of where I live. And itwas expensive.

So today, just when I had given up, I went into the other tobacconists shop. In the afternoons, there is a young lady there who is just super. Mid-twenties, very nice. She knows what you smoke after the second time you were there, and just automatically grabs for what you want before you open your mouf. And they have a hell of a lot of traffic, out there on the square, next to the market. Prices went up so badly last year I switched to cheaper. A brand called Main. And she said, 'Every time I sell this, I have to think of Steven King.' And yes, she knew that Maine has an e at the end.

Shorter RenB: We have exchanged many pleasantries over the past years, if short. They have much traffic and there is little time.

So I went in on my way home today, just desolated about what other costs are going to come of my forgetfulness, and she was completely concerned. 'Are these your keys?' And they were. I had competely forgotten that I had been in there to get Peter his local version of your 'TV Guide', and left them on the counter. (Only our versions of TV Guide has naked ladies in it. One of my friends was shocked, I tell you SCHOCKED. He wished his wife could see our depravation, so I said, 'Well take it back with you, the new one is out tomorrow.' And he said, Can I get through immigration with this? And I said, 'How the fuck do I know? Haven't been there in a decade.' )

Whatever, that little lady gets flowers, and chocolates and a bottle of champagne tomorrow. And that isn't even expensive in comparison to what she helped me save.

And people are often not so bad as you think.

Just sayin'

Snoopy Dance!!!!!!!

So you win again, you win again, you LOSER....

That is what I woke up to. Couldn't get a channel to watch the game. So turned on the local radio, fell asleep and that is the first thing I woke up to.

Leave it to Austrians to give you some lip, hey.

It was an honourable defeat. They got one goal, we didn't, so they played very well, but we're knocked out of the games.

They kept saying they were going to 'kill us 5 to 1'. Uh-huh.....

Chuzpe.

For the rest of it, not interested. I saw my hair-cutter Enver on the square this morning. He is from Turkey, and I congratulated him on the Turkish's team winning the night before. 'Nice game,' I said. 'Well played.' He was taken aback. 'You mean football?' And I said 'yes, of course. Congratulations.'

He isn't used to people being fair and gentlemanly to him. Freaked him out.

The best win. And you respect that. Ours wasn't, but they at least showed them we aren't dish rags.

And the bloody Germans will continue to look down on us forever.

Eeeeewwwww.

What can you do, hey.

Today is the Hammer.....

For days, the German and Austria media have been off the charts for insults to one another on this World Cup game, which is why I hate them. And tonight we see who is the better team. It's a psycho war. Who can set the other team off balance. I just hope we can give Germany a couple of slaps in the face.

So yes, tonight is the night. If we cream the big-mouthed Germans, they won't forgive us. Vienna doesn't just have the stadium full. Forty thousand German fans fell into the city today. They have HUGE live screen transmitions all over the place, and there are gonna be 200 000 people out there, tanked up with beer and screaming. It is awful, believe me.

But I hope ours just kick their asses. They'll be traumatised for another thirty years.

But as the saying goes, 'if wishes were horses, beggars would ride.' We will see.

And the best will win, and if we do, Germany goes home.

Oh, I so hope we do.

And I do not care about the rest. I saw my barber Enver this morning, and he greeted me heartilly out on the square, and I said, 'Oh, congratulations on the outcome of the games last night.' Turkey won over the Czechs. And the latter play dirty. And he said, you mean the soccer? ' And I said, 'oh yes, that second half was one fine game. How nice.' And he 'beamed' at me.

(I'd been translating some stuff for my neighbor, and his window faces the square. He had the window open, and all of a sudden there was this hullabaloo out there, people yelling out of cars, flags waving on them, they got into the fourth finals, and the Turks won over the Czechs. It was awesome. And honking like after weddings, when they are only going to be later divorces. With flags waving on the cars and the fans yelling out the windows.) But now it comes....

Austria as little brother with only 8 million people against big brother Germany with 80 million.

Oh how Í sincerely hope that we kick them out of them into oblivion. It is the only game that interests me, and the media has been despicable.

We will most likely lose... but I hope they fuck them over anyway with a goal or two.

Either way, they get humiliated....

And I WILL LIKE IT.

So bring it on, youse guys. Am sick of the insults.

Show us your Macho thing, and how you go into Mimosa mode.

And shit your pants, hey...

And to rinse and repeat, this is going to be the only game that interests me, because the press is so insulting and dirty, you could barf. And it is REALLy dirty....

Soon to begin... Oh my....

I wish my team does well.

I had to swallow enough When I was poor, and didn't know how to protect myself.

OMG... it's Father's Day

He is wishing for vixens to come in riding on white horses and ravish him.

Which is pretty kinky and fun for a nonagenerian... Don't you think?

So, Dad, here's to your day, and I hope there will be more....

'Me ancient 'un', as a Dickens character used to say.

My father often plays his cards very close to his chest. But from my earliest memories on, he was always kind and loving. I cannot remember one single moment where he lost his temper, (unlike me), or raised his voice. He has always been a constant and very patient man, and I am sure some of my life choices weren't always what he wanted for me, but I have never heard a word of reproach from him, and I'm sure it wasn't easy for him, and how he felt inside.

I have always tried to be a little like him, as much as I could.

So, my progenitor: we have come a long way together, hurtling along on this rock circling the sun. (And I know you are going to read this....) I know I could have sent some oversentimental card to your mailbox. But I want the world to know how proud I am of my Dad. Know that I love you, and am thankful. Few people have such luck to have one like you.

And I hope you get some vixens on white horses, yes I do wholeheartedly.

oh no. oh no... oh no...

Some weeks hit you like a sledge hammer on the head. You get all sorts of mishaps, people you loved died, and were buried without you able to be there....

But today I learned that my most favorite uncle is in hospital, and they won't treat him till they get PAPER Work done, HELLO? What happened to the hypocritacal Oath over there, and that typo was intentional, believe me. It makes my blood boil just to hear of it.

This uncle is so special to me. My mom told me some kids threw stones at him when he was little, and he slowly went deaf. But before he did, his passion was for classical music. He had cancer and had to have a side-outlet. But he loved his music, and he TAUGHT me how to listen. I would never have been able to function here, and been a dumb uneducated Ami.

And gawwwd, what concerts I heard and delighted in.

One of my cousins is going to see he gets the right care.

What a week, hey....

Oh oh, am gonna have to get out my boxing gloves, oh Yes

Concerning the World Cup soccer games, of course.....

Even Peter's 93 year old aunt watches, and mailed me about them yesterday. Uh-huh. I had to be very very polite, believe me. Because this is The Superbowl raised to the tenth power, and I am so not joking. I've never followed soccer much, but when it happens every two years, you simply can't avoid it, whether tee-vee news, or papers, or people you talk to on the street. And you must at least know what is going on.

This year, Austria is co-hosting the games with Switzerland. The Swiss already got knocked out of the games in the quarter finals, which aren't over yet. And CNN and the media in Germany were all, pooh-poohAustria is the weakest team in the league, but WTF, they're co-hosting it so wish them luck.

Not any more, hey....

Well, Germany really messed up with Croatia yesterday, and are FREAKED, I tell you, absoutely Freaked! Because they have this attitude, and a very bad superiortity complex. Or the press does, better said.... And they have to play against Austria in Vienna, of all places. On Monday. And they have to get at least one goal more than we do or they get eliminated from the games. What joy.

Peter was doing Snoopy dances in his wheelchair this morning. Schadenfreude? That is an understatement although he also never regularly follows soccer.

There is a historic context for all this. In the late Seventies we had the same situation. I hadn't paid much attention to it at the time, but walked into town one evening to go to work. It was a complete ghost town, no one on the street, but all the windows open and televisions blaring. And twice everybody started screaming, and yelling and waving out the windows, and dancing on balconies, and I thought, 'What in gawd's name is going ON here?' And there was this famous yell: 'GOAL!! GOAL!! GOAL!!! 'i werd narrisch' (I'm going crazy....) The Austrians eliminated the Germans from the quarter finals in Cordoba.

Peter had to give me a crash course in what was going on. Our place was full of Germans. It has been a never-healing wound on their soul ever since, believe me. And no, I don't think the Austrians won that year, but it's been a badge of honour for Austrian soccer players ever since.

The German news is ratcheting it up today. (Whine, whine.... Hansi Krankl said 'it's going to be like Cordoba.' They still have a phobia after so many years? ''How is it going to affect our boys, and putting on psychological pressure?' Hey, since when did the national German soccer team get Mimosa genes? Gimme a break.)

Get a backbone or something....

And just to be clear.... I don't understand soccer rules. And I hate the nationalistic thing that goes with it, all the flags and the drunken unruly mobs, and the flag waving and so on. But I so wish that our team just give them a little slap on the cheek, and put them in their place for a while.

Not to much to ask, I think. And then they can hate us for another thirty years. Snoopy dance. We'll see Monday.

Update: One of their best players got the red card yesterday, and can't play on Monday, he threw a player to the ground, purposely. Dyes his hair white-blonde, he does. I wouldn't want to have his name. Schweinberger. A Schwein is a pig. His fans call him 'Schweindi' 'piggy'. Now THAT is something to be proud of.... Or not?

I will never understand them., Nevah.

Na ja, back to bed. My head hurts, and I want to see the German journalists heads explode. That would be Sooooo nice...

Well, well... another odd 24 hours, and I got my first black eye ever

I look like a friggin' racoon or a rowdy. And no, no one hit me. I am your absolute, total klutz. If there is anything that goes one centimeter above the pavement, you can be sure I'm going to find it and trip over it. It's famous among those who know me well, and have often joked, if I had been born a girl, they should have named me 'Grace'. Not. So I was hurrying to get supper before the supermarket closed, tripped on the curbstone because I was hurrying, and fell full out on the sidewalk, splat. My glasses flew, and that was the worst thing about it, because without them I am blind. Scraped my elbow, and three people were all concerned, asking if I were ok, and I said, 'Yes, thank you. Thank you.' And thought to myself, 'you bloody idiot, want to break a hip and die?'

So I thought I got off with just a scrape on the elbow, you see...

This morning, I had a lot of bureaucratic things to do. Among them, the unemployment office. I felt crappy, and just put on my NY City OPERA tee-shirt. Black with white logo. I didn't notice anything when I shaved. Yesterday I found out that the union will provide me with financial help while I am unemployed. So I had to get some bank statements as to what they are paying me, and an official statement from the unemployment office as to since when I have been unemployed. I've paid my dues for over thirty years, so now they do something for me for a change.

Then I checked in with Elke for a couple of minutes, and she was looking at me oddly.

I couldn't figure out why.

Then I went to the pension place, and the guy in the reception ALSO looked at me oddly, but he couldn't reach the guy who would know if the Americans had finally responded.

So then I had my 'date' with my new advisor. She turned out to be very, very cool. I think she likes my sense of humour, and that is really not for everyone. 'So you're waiting.' 'Yes, they told me that the Amis really take their time about it, and I am PURPOSELY leaving out some very negative adjectives.'

Click.

I gave her the reader's digest abridged version of what went down last year, including all the stuff with Peter. She was really disgusted.

With my company, I mean, not with me.

The ice broke, and I have never laughed so much or so hard during a bureaucratic meeting. Out loud, even. At one point I said, well working in my job, you learn things that you didn't even know EXISTED. Or wanted to know, for that matter.... She fell apart.

'So you stayed in Austria because you fell in love, and then he dumped you.' 'It was a lot more than that, but you know men.... basically pigs...'

We laughed so hard....

I have to go back in October, as she is going for a three week rehab wellness thing, and then three weeks up on an Alm, in Carynthia. An Alm is a meadow on a mountanside, way the fuck up there, and there are cow and sheep-herders, and they make milk and cheese. Sounds very nice.

Ladies really try to get in the last word, and normally they do. She said, 'And when it rains we stay inside and I'm gonna tie my guy to the bed, and take my pleasure.'

Spitless.

But I got the exit word, hey. 'You SEE? That is exactly what I never wanted to know!'

We just busted out laughing.

Hey, thirty years ago, if you had anything whatsoever to do with these government people, they were so hostile you kept your bloody Mouf shut. Amazing.

And I walked, and bought some groceries for lunch. And Peter goes all patriarchal on me and wants to know who hit me. Because I have a black eye. So that is why they were all looking at me oddly. It seems to have developed over the morning, instead of last night.

Late last night, I learned of a death in my family that hurt me. But that is for another post. Life goes on, etc.

oooo.... Somebody's got one hell of a crush and it isn't me

Was just out to get cigarettes. At four-thirty in the a.m. It was already light, which must mean we are in June. On our latitude/longitude, it starts to dawn at three a.m. standard time, in other words, which has always been a source of wonderment to me. Birds chirping away.... Odd.

Somebody put up new posters out on the square. A new cocktail-music bar to open downtown, on June 18th, startling graphically. Orange on black background. The Obama Bar! Talk about 'overnight fame'. The link is in the title, haven't clicked through it yet. But the rubric 'Rent Obama' sort of jars on the nerves, if you ask me. (Yeah, I know, you didn't ask me...). I'd have gone with 'Rent an Event'. Oh well... Maybe I'll send them an e-mail. 'Rent' has some un-good connotations....

The link is in the title.

Oh.my. gawd....

It is Monday, so it was bank day. Which means I have to get Peter OUT of the house, and his bloody neighbors weren't home, so I had to do it myself. He 'used' to be six-foot two and weighs about one hundred six Kilos even without his missing leg. I am five foot nine, and about 150 pounds. Or close to 80 Kilos.

Did you ever see 'the dying swan' at he ballet? Pretty much sums it up.

But I DID it. Hooray for me.

And I still feel like shit.

So I wheeled him into town, as usual. This place keeps saying, that the town is hadicapped friendly. Uh-huh. The only curbs that are good for wheelchairs are meant for bicyclers, and you have to know where they are.

So we went to the bloody bank.

There is a very personable 'greeter' there. He sets everything in motion. And he has a killer sense of humour. Today he was totally stressed. And he mislaid Peter's ATM card, and didn't give it back to him.

And they couldn't find it.

He was so fucked up over that, he looked like a Dachshund who inadvertantly pissed on your best carpet.

But no. I can understand it....

This afternoon, Sabine, his bank lady, called me on my cell phone, and asked for him. So we talked. She couldn't get him on his normal phone, so she called me.

It was oh-ful.

Tja, there are days you feel you shouldn't get out of bed, but there are otherdays when you can DO domething when you least expect it......

Maybe I did something good today, but am not certain.

Oh je, here we go again....

The world cup soccer games began yesterday. Austria and Switzerland are hosting them. The Germans are horrible, as per usual. In the sense that they think they are sooooo wonderful. They get on everyone's nerves.

So time to turn off the tee-vee, and go underground. People here go nuts over these games, and Somebody or other shot a couple of goals this evening, and all of a sudden there was a hell of a hullabaloo out on the streets.

The Germans won over Poland tonight. So here we go again.... Back to dvd's. I hate the whole nationalistic thing, and the drunken mobs who growl out their battle songs and can't carry a tune, and then and go wild in the streets after a game.

And they all run around waving their flags.

Gimme a break.

Well, just FUCK me raw witrh a flavour straw,,,,,

As we potty-mouthed kids used to say in the Sixties.

We had no idea what it MEANT, but it was just a saying when you got fully knocked down inside by something.

And it came back to me tonight after reading that Hillary is only suspending her canderature.

I have a mess of adjectives I will NOT use this evening, but 'vindictive' is uppermost in my mind.

I've spent all afternoon trying to help a neighbor find his son. A little five year old boy who disappeard with his Mom in Ethiopia. It was nerve-wrenching for me. 'We have a trace, but it is not certain that it will be good.' The guy needs my English to write what he needs. I did what I could...

It was emotionally draining, believe me.

The guy loves his son. He was a mercenary.

Which brings us round again to 'that woman'. No. Just..... no...

Oh my, I just had a 'moment' out on the square....

slept this afternoon, very much rain, and hurried over to the tobacconist and the supermarket before they closed.

Out on the square, there were bunches of kids. Maybe eight or nine years old. Unusual. They cheered me up, they looked so funny. (No, not what you think, I find children little wonderworks of non-predjudicial tiny persons who can come up with the most awesome explanations that explain things they do not understand. No one taught them to hate, in other words.)

So there was this little group on the corner going to the tobacconist, and several kids went nuts over a husky, gorgeous young dog, the owner was a guy my age had and was waiting to cross the street. It was one of the most perfect dogs I have ever seen, young, and he let the kids pet him, and the old guy just smiled hey... And I thought, 'Am I in the right city, or did I get transported to somewhere else?'

Oldies usually aren't so nice.

Came back across the intersection, and then it happened, going to the supermarket. Three other little kids were in a very agitated conversation, you see.

Now what all these children have in common is the same haircut. They look like little roosters. Good gracious, if I had come home from the barber's looking like that, my folks would have sued him. The sides are all cut short, and the top is stiffed up with gel, and some of them have longer hair in the back of the head, or get blonde streaks in it.

When I just think about how my 'rents reacted if you tried to look like a Beatle.. Oh my...

Or a Jesuit telling you were sick because your hair was too long, whomI threw out of the hospital room.

But that isn't 'the moment'. There was a lady who crossed the intersection with me. In a Tschador, as we say, completely covered. From the Middle East, and I really don't care where from. But she found the little roosters funny, and we were on the same wave-length. And we LOOKED at one another, and laughed quietly. Twice. Her eyes were so pretty and vivacious....

We are all a part of humanity, connected.

I get so tired of people and their predjudices.

It was only a 'moment'.

But it was very nice. To connect with humanity---

Maybe I should go out more....

Am clueless.....

So O' Bambi gets the delegates he needs, and the sHill says she's staying in, and doesn't concede. If she had, she could have quit with dignity and grace and united the party.

The press and tee-vee here seem to be fixated on her and think she still has a chance. Propaganda.

Disgusting.

Good luck with McSame....

Chuzpe...

was once defined as murdering your parents, and then throwing yourself on the mercy of the court because you are an orphan.

It is three thirty in the am, and I have a brain fart, can't remember who said that originally.....

But it came to mind yesterday morning watching Hillary's speech in Puerto Rico. (And why should their votes count if they aren't an official state, but a 'protectorate'. Or Tahiti, for that matter? That is confusing.... Just sayin'.... Can we say 'desperation' here?)

But as it turns out.... Little Scotty Mclellan has become a three-day wonder on the news circuits. He was the most ineffectual person I have ever seen, bar Dana Perino, the ditz.... I often wonder how far lower they can put the bars, and insult people's intelligence.

But if you boil the essential message that that pudgy little guy has to say, all that gets left is, 'I lied to you, and you SWALLOWED it' (as the guy who told you you were hot and let you fellate him said), pushing the blame on the journalists. But it isn't that simple. The so-called 'journalists' are just Yuppie tools. And they fellate to get the 'gravy'.

From what I have seen so far, some are rushing to protect their not-so-pristine reputations. Bill O's head is exploding, and the sooner the better.... It is fun to watch. Now where did I hide the potato chips?????

But no. Better leave them. If there was ever a non-story, this one would get some prize of the year, and it isn't even half over yet.

Chuzpe.